


lavender

by ramenree



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Shower Sex, Smut, sad boys who find each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenree/pseuds/ramenree
Summary: Zeren has no idea how much he’s in for when he starts sleeping with the hot senior on the dance team. Maybe Zhou Yanchen will be enough to fix him, jagged pieces and all.
Relationships: Ding Zeren/Zhou Yanchen, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	lavender

**Author's Note:**

> hi,
> 
> i wrote this two days ago in six hours because yanren keeps popping up on my tl and i feel like everyone misses them.
> 
> beta read by the lovely [@mifan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mifan/pseuds/mifan)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! this is my first time writing smut, so go easy on me.

The thing is, Zeren isn’t new to this. 

He’s dated and has had crushes all throughout high school and his first year of college, when he really ought to have focused more on his studies. And it’s not like he asked for it. He didn’t wake up one day and decide on his undying love for one of the particularly attractive members of their dance team. It was more so like falling down a slope, slow and careful, where Zeren could feel that he was slipping but couldn’t help but let himself go down even more.

When he first met Yanchen, a month into college and at the try-outs for the dance team, he had been more intimidated than enamoured. Yanchen was a good portion taller than him, with a head of black hair and a bright smile and a face that made Zeren understand why everyone talked about the hot sophomore on the college dance team in his classes. But more importantly, he watched Zeren’s routine with scrutinizing eyes and later on, showed all the dancers in the room his own frighteningly good dance skills that made Zeren think that perhaps he should pack up his ideas of being a dancer altogether.

He almost wants to laugh when he thinks about this. If Zeren had actually done that-- lived up to the dramatic bitch he was-- and dropped out tryouts altogether, he probably would have been spared from the misery of having a crush on Zhou Yanchen, two years later.

But he didn’t. He gets in, and it’s just the beginning.

***

Yanchen pumps into him slowly, dragging out his movements so that he’s grinding against Zeren’s prostate each time he bottoms out. Zeren digs his fingers into his back and tucks his head into Yanchen’s shoulder, panting heavily.

“Feel good?” Yanchen breathes into his ear. Zeren can hear the smile in his voice and almost pushes him away, but another pump of Yanchen’s hips makes him moan instead.

He leans back against the bed, grabbing at the sheets, and stares, glassy-eyed, at Yanchen’s smirking face. “I’d feel better if you’d shut up” he says, then moans again.

Yanchen just smiles wider. “You like it. You wouldn’t have slept with me for so long if you didn’t.”

Zeren wants to retort, but they both know that Yanchen is right. Zeren likes Yanchen’s voice, even during sex, even when he gets so fucking embarrassed by how _filthy_ the shit Yanchen says can be.

So instead, he tugs Yanchen’s head down by his neck and slots his mouth messily against his. Yanchen smiles into the kiss and continues to fuck into him slowly until Zeren comes, spurting weakly onto both of their stomachs. 

Yanchen finishes a few moments later, groaning into Zeren’s shoulder, and they spend a few seconds like that, Yanchen lying on top of Zeren, breathing hard, until Zeren begins to feel uncomfortable from the stickiness.

Yanchen seems to sense his discomfort and pushes off him. Zeren hisses as he pulls out, earning a sheepish grimace from Yanchen.

“Should I have stayed inside you?” Yanchen offers weakly. Zeren glares at him.

He moves his legs a little and scowls. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Sorry,” Yanchen replies, though Zeren knows that he isn’t sorry at all. And sure enough, less than a few moments later, he mutters, “But you like it when it’s rough.”

Zeren doesn’t bother to answer him this time. 

Yanchen throws the condom away before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Zeren lying limply on his bed. However, he emerges moments later with a damp towel, and leans over him to clean him up.

His brows are furrowed slightly when he wipes at the mess on Zeren’s abdomen, his pretty face pursed. It’s endearingly cute, the concern he has for Zeren each time after they fuck, but it only serves to remind Zeren how utterly stupid he is about all of this. Yanchen is a good person, and it would be only natural that he takes care of whoever he’s sleeping with afterwards. It’s Zeren’s own fault that his heart pounds at double time each time Yanchen does it for _him_.

Yanchen finishes and tosses the cloth to the bedside table. Zeren follows the movement and sees that it’s one AM. They took longer this time, and he swears inwardly for not paying attention earlier. There are barely any buses after twelve, and true to what he said earlier, his legs are too numb for him to make the walk home comfortably.

Maybe he’ll call Zhengting, he thinks, already beginning to push himself up. Zhengting would be mad that he’s disrupting his sleep schedule, but he’s sure he’d understand. It’s happened before.

But before he can push himself fully upright and reach for his clothes, Yanchen pushes him back down. Zeren hits the bed and is about to open his mouth to protest when Yanchen slips in beside him and throws an arm around him.

“Stay for the night,” he declares. Zeren tries to shove him off.

“No, it’s fine--”

“There aren’t too many buses after twelve, and you can’t feel your legs,” Yanchen recites as if he read Zeren’s mind. “Remember?”

Zeren glares at him. “I can call Zhengting.”

“And have Wenjun be pissed at you for disrupting their personal time together?” Yanchen closes his eyes and smiles, tugging Zeren closer into his chest.

Zeren wants to argue more (maybe bring up the fact that Wenjun’s literally picked Zeren up before at two), but Yanchen’s limbs around him sucks all of the fight out of him. He relents, relaxing in his arms, trying to ignore the frantic beating of his own heart and praying to whatever god was out there that Yanchen wouldn’t be able to feel it under his fingertips.

After all, it isn’t the first time he’s slept over. It’s just another case of Zeren not knowing when to back out of something that was fucked from the start, relentlessly beating himself up over something he was never supposed to have anyways.

***

The first time it happened was at a party held by the members of their dance team. Cliché, Zeren knows.

It was something Xukun and Ziyi had organized to celebrate a contest that they had won, and, just like the rest of the parties they were known to host, this one didn’t disappoint.

Zeren remembers drinking too many cups of whatever tangerine punch Yanjun brought to the party, and taking one too many shots with Zhengting in the living room afterwards. However, unfortunately, he also remembers staggering around the kitchen, drunk out of his mind, and slamming into Yanchen, who was leaning against the sink.

“Sorry,” he slurs at him, squinting in the dim lights of the kitchen. Yanchen is very pretty-- he always is--, but he looks even better to him tonight with his slightly smudged eyeliner and messy hair. He even looks hot in the ruined white tee-shirt he has on, with a large orange splatter of what Zeren’s muddled brain thinks is the punch from before. Which is saying something about Zeren.

“Don’t worry,” Yanchen slurs back at him. Zeren squints at him again and notices the red solo cup he has clenched in one hand. Oh. He must be drunk as well.

“What are you doing here all alone?” he asks him, looking left and right. He doesn’t see anyone else in the kitchen, as most of the team is clustered in the living room, dancing and talking and making out. In fact, it’s precisely because Zeren had to watch Zhengting and Wenjun make out right in front of him that he decided to leave for the kitchen in the first place. 

Yanchen makes a face and takes another sip of his drink. “I keep third-wheeling Ziyi and Xukun.”

“Ah.” Zeren nods drowsily. “We’ve all been there.”

“And,” Yanchen continues on. “Xingjie is flirting with the DJ-- Xiao Gui, you know him?-- and claims that I’m a shitty wingman, so he doesn’t want me either. Though if you ask me, he’s the one who can’t fucking flirt for the life of him.”

It’s strange, having a conversation like this with Yanchen. Zeren and Yanchen are friends, he supposes, but they’re more teammates than friends, more classmates than acquaintances. Their conversations, if any, rarely stray away from dance or school. And never alone like right now.

Zeren hums, not knowing what to say. He realizes that he has his own drink and takes a sip of it to try to mitigate the possible awkwardness. 

Yanchen notices it and grimaces. “Sorry. I’m rambling, am I? I don’t know when to shut up when I’m drunk.” 

“Nah.” Zeren shakes his head. “You’re good. I’m just trying to think of something smart to say.”

To his surprise, Yanchen laughs. Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought he was. “Don’t. I won’t remember it anyways, I don’t think.”

Zeren grins before downing the rest of his drink. He sees over the rim of his cup that Yanchen is doing the same, and together, they dump their cups in the sink.

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks Yanchen, once the burn from all the vodka has worn off. He hopes that Yanchen can understand what he’s trying to say, because shit, he’s so fucking drunk.

Yanchen leans against the fridge and frowns at him. “And have to watch everyone at this party make out again?”

Right. “That’s very true.” Zeren joins him in leaning against the fridge. His side presses against Yanchen’s abdomen, and in normal times, he would have probably jerked away and apologized. However, he’s so drunk that all he can do is admire how hot Yanchen really is under the dim lights of Xukun and Ziyi’s kitchen.

Yanchen seems to be looking at him too, his gaze smouldering into his own, and when Yanchen moves again, it’s to cage Zeren in with his arms. 

“Hey,” he breathes down at him. “I might regret this tomorrow morning, but do you wanna hook up?”

Yanchen stares greedily at his lips as he says this, his breath coming hot against Zeren’s face with how close he is to him.

Now, if Zeren knew what agreeing would have meant for him, he’d have said no. Maybe laugh and walk away, or even drag him out to dance, despite not wanting to himself. Maybe he’d have woken up the next morning, alone in his bed, wondering if Zhou Yanchen had really asked him to hook up with him. He’d see him at training, be embarrassed for the two of them, but then the memory would begin to disappear over time as none of them brought it up again, and one day, it would be forgotten altogether.

However, Zeren kisses him instead. And he doesn’t forget it.

Yanchen kisses him back, his mouth tasting like peaches and tangerines and vodka, and they make out sloppily against the fridge until Zeren is panting into his mouth and can’t think of anything except for think where they’re going to fuck.

Turns out, Yanchen has a plan, and they continue to make out all the way down to the guest bedroom Ziyi and Xukun have. Then, when they’re in the room, Yanchen kicks the door shut behind them before kissing Zeren again, pushing him down against the bed.

They fuck for the first time that night, a mess of limbs and kisses and bruises and moans, and when Zeren falls asleep as soon as they’re done, he doesn’t even have a chance to regret it.

***

Zeren wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache. It’s too warm, and there’s something sticky all over his skin and between his legs. However, more importantly, there are a pair of arms tossed over him and a hot breath in his ear.

Yesterday night’s events come flooding back to him, and in an instant, he’s pushed himself up, wincing at the pain that throbs through his head.

His sudden movement seems to stir Yanchen as well, because he’s adjusting himself in the bed, blinking blearily at Zeren through the grey morning light. He’s shirtless, his bare chest tangled in the sheets as he stretches himself, and when Zeren runs his eyes down his form, he sees that he’s not wearing anything else either.

_Fuck_.

He’s about to crawl out of bed and hopefully get dressed fast enough before Yanchen wakes up fully and realizes who he’s just slept with, but before he can even push himself up, there is a hand on his arm.

Zeren turns and sees that Yanchen is squinting at him, struggling to keep his eyes open through the light and his own hangover. Zeren bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what he could want from him. Hopefully, he doesn’t get kicked out of the dance team.

Yanchen furrows his brows at him and musters up a sloppy smile. “Hey.”

“Good morning.”

“Are you leaving?” 

Zeren pauses, then nods. “I have class later.” It’s not true (he wouldn’t drink so much the night before if he actually did), but it’s the only excuse he has to get away and possibly never mention this again to Yanchen.

Yanchen nods gently and lets go of Zeren’s arm. Zeren takes it as a sign to leave and begins to tug his shirt back on.

“Hey.” Yanchen’s voice stops him again. He’s turned on his side now, his black hair falling messily over his eyes. He’s smiling more widely now. “We should do that again sometime.”

And maybe it’s because in his muffled mind, Zeren recalls how good they were together the night before. Maybe it’s because Yanchen is so frustratingly hot, and Zeren has a weak spot for tall, hot dancers with nice pecs and built frames. Maybe it’s because Yanchen is looking at him, soft and eager, just waiting for Zeren’s response.

It doesn’t matter.

Zeren says yes.

***

Here’s another thing.

Zeren doubts he would have fallen so hard if he was sleeping with anyone other than Zhou Yanchen. He beats himself up for this too. If he had just slept with that really cute, rich guy in his calculus class instead (Jeffrey, or Youlin; he doesn’t know. He just knows that he’s workout buddies with Ziyi), or maybe seduced Chen Linong when he had the chance (that probably wouldn’t have been good either if he thinks about it; Xukun and Yanjun would scalp him), he wouldn’t have to be subjected to all the _bullshit_ Yanchen entails, and he wouldn’t have to hurt himself in the end.

But, he chose Yanchen. And that meant that he chose the person he should have expected to fall for in the end.

Because Yanchen, frustratingly, seems to quite literally take the title ‘friends with benefits’ as it is. This means that he wants the ‘friends’ aspect of the name as much as he wants the ‘benefits’ part, and thus, Zeren isn’t spared from all the little things that makes Zhou Yanchen so special.

Case in point: two days after the party, Zhengting has a little gathering at his apartment for the members of the dance team who got too hungover to eat properly in the days following. Zeren goes, because he and Chengcheng literally have nothing left in the fridge and he really doesn’t want to order takeout again, and also because Zhengting’s cooking is amazing. Unfortunately, Yanchen is there for nearly the same reason.

Yanchen opens the door for him and Chengcheng when he presses the doorbell, standing there in all of his 184 cm glory, his black hair messy and falling in waves over his forehead, one of his hands fiddling with the silver chain earring in his left ear.

“Hey, Zeren. Chengcheng.” He nods at them. “Zhengting said that you were coming.”

“He didn’t say that you were gonna be here,” Chengcheng comments, slipping past Yanchen. “I thought you could cook.”

Yanchen grins sheepishly. “Yeah I can, but it doesn’t mean that I’ll pass on free food.”

Zeren hasn’t said anything yet. In fact, he hasn’t said anything at all to him ever since that first morning in Ziyi and Xukun’s guest bedroom, when Yanchen had asked him to sleep together again sometime. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t even think he has Yanchen’s phone number.

Chengcheng takes off his shoes and tumbles into the room, yelling for Justin to come play video games with him. Justin and Zhengting both yell back, Justin’s an excited squeal, and Zhengting’s a snap to come help him out in the kitchen first.

Zeren smiles at the raucous as he slips off his own shoes and almost jumps when Yanchen addresses him directly.

“We all know Zhengting is just gonna kick Cheng and Justin out of the kitchen as soon as they try to go help him,” he chuckles. Zeren looks up to see that he’s grinning at him as if they share some sort of secret. And perhaps, now that he’s thinking about it, maybe they do.

“Do you think he’ll recruit us next?” Zeren goes along with it. “Or can we chill and take what we came here for: his food?”

Yanchen laughs again. “I doubt he’ll want us helping him after whatever hell Chengcheng and Justin are gonna cause for him. If he really needs it, he’ll just ask Wenjun.”

They walk into the living room. Zhengting waves a quick hello to Zeren before turning back to Chengcheng and Justin to scold them about whatever they’re messing up on the stove. Wenjun is sitting at the kitchen table, laughing at them, but he nods at them as well when they pass.

“Do you need our help?” Zeren asks anyways.

Wenjun glances at Zhengting trying to wrench a pair of chopsticks out of Justin’s hand and shakes his head. “Nah. You guys should probably retreat to the living room if you don’t wanna see Zhengting lose his mind.” 

Zeren watches Zhengting succeed in wrestling Justin away from the stove and agrees with him silently.

There’s no one else in the living room, and Zeren begins to feel the tendrils of awkwardness climbing all over him when he sits down at the couch, Yanchen by his side. What does he say to someone he just slept with, especially when that someone is someone he’s barely talked to as more than a teammate?

Yanchen himself doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as Zeren feels. Maybe he’s more used to dealing with the people he chooses to sleep with. He definitely is, Zeren recognizes. This probably isn’t new to someone like Yanchen at all.

“One of these days, we need to take Zhengting out to some five star restaurant just to pay him back for all the stress we put him through.” Yanchen peers at him with glimmering eyes and a wide grin.

“Probably,” Zeren responds shortly. There’s another crash in the kitchen, more yells and whines. He sighs. “If he doesn’t die of a stroke before that.”

Yanchen laughs. “I don’t know how he does it; he’s studying to be a nurse, is the captain of the dance team with Xukun, and on top of that, has to worry himself over all of us too.” 

“Aren’t you in health sci?” Zeren asks with a frown. Yanchen is the last person who should be surprised that there are people who can multitask and be successful in many different areas. He’s smart, from what he hears, wants to get into med school, is one of the choreographers in their dance crew, and works part-time at some cat cafe in the city. He’s basically the full package, unlike Zeren struggling to hand in his commerce assignments and wake up in time for dance practice.

“Yeah, but I’m not on top of my shit like he is.” Zeren scoffs internally. If Yanchen isn’t on top of his shit, Zeren must be buried alive.

Yanchen notices the expression on his face and pouts. “Don’t be like that.”

“Tell that to my struggling ass.”

“You’re not doing too bad either, if Zhengting’s word on you is right.” He paused. “Business, right?”

“Uh huh.” Zeren nods, then laughs sheepishly. “It’s boring, I know.”

“Nah. As long as you're into it.”

Zeren doesn’t know how to respond to this. Instead, he changes the topic. “Where’s Xingjie?”

“Oh, him?” Yanchen frowns. “I think he had to cover his coworker’s shift at the movie theater. Was pretty pissed about it as well when I asked him about it in class today. Why, did you need to talk to him?”

Zeren shakes his head. He only asked because for some reason, it seems so strange to him that he’s seeing Yanchen without his best friend outside of the dance practice rooms. Even in gossip, Yanchen’s name is looped with Xingjie’s. The hot seniors who everyone’s had a crush on at one point or another. Yanchen, one of the choreographers for their dance team, and Xingjie the producer of all the tracks they dance to. It’s to be expected. “Nope. Just curious since you’re usually with him when I see you.”

“Really?” Yanchen shifts so that he’s facing Zeren more. “I don’t see you that much outside of dance, so maybe, I guess.” He drags a hand through his hair. “You’ll probably see me without him for a bit more then. Jie-ge’s been working on some tracks lately-- he’s working with the DJ that he was flirting with last time, that guy, Xiao Gui, remember?-- and he keeps bailing for whatever plans we make.”

_So he does remember last time_ . Zeren tries to keep a straight face, but Yanchen mentioning it to casually makes heat rush to his cheeks, because _fuck_ , Zeren still remembers how Yanchen looked with his mouth around his dick.

“I got tickets to this one paintballing thing, and Xingjie was supposed to be my plus one, but he pulled the plug on me last second.” Yanchen pouts. “Said that his tracks were more important than me.”

Zeren laughs. “Paintballing?”

“I love paintballing.” Yanchen raises an eyebrow. “Have you tried it before?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, but it sounds really painful.”

“It’s not actually that bad. Bruises hard, but it’s not permanent damage or anything. And it’s really fun.”

“Is it?” Zeren can’t imagine what would be fun about getting pelted with rubber bullets, splattered with paint, bruises forming all over his body, but he grins anyways. 

“Yeah.” Yanchen leans forward a bit, smiling wide. “Do you wanna come with me? I’ll show you how to paintball, and maybe you’ll see just how fun it is. Next next Friday. I can pick you up.”

Zeren is taken aback. _Is he really like this with all of his hook-ups?_ He wonders. Yanchen is too close now, peering at him with interest like he knows something he doesn’t, but pleading all the same. There’s no harm in saying yes though, he reasons. There’s nothing wrong with becoming friends with Yanchen, and if he says no, Yanchen might have to go alone. He doubts Yanchen won’t be able to find someone to come with him, however. The guy is popular.

“Sure,” he says, then shifts back because Yanchen really is too close and he can’t stop the sudden thumping of his heart each time Yanchen’s gaze grazes across him. 

“Great!” Yanchen falls back, smiling like a puppy now, before rummaging through his phone to pass it to Zeren. “Put your number in. I’ll text you the details later.”

Zeren puts it in.

***

They don’t fuck that night. Yanchen sends him the details to the paintballing event after dinner. Zeren sets his name in his phone to “Zhou Yanchen”, nothing more.

But the night after that, Yanchen texts him “Wanna come over?” and three cat emojis, and Zeren doesn’t really think before agreeing with a thumbs up. 

He takes the bus to Yanchen’s apartment (or at least where he thinks is Yanchen’s apartment), and when he knocks, it’s Yanchen who answers, his face beaming at the sight of him. He’s wearing a black tee-shirt that’s a little small on him because it stretches over his chest, but Zeren isn’t complaining. 

Zeren fucks Yanchen hard and fast, appreciating the way Yanchen bites his shoulders and kisses him when he’s coming, and when they’re done, he doesn’t wait before slipping out back home.

Yanchen texts him another cat emoji and “Home?” an hour later. Zeren responds with another thumbs up before falling asleep.

***

Yanchen seems to slip into his life after that. Every few days, Zeren would show up at his apartment, waiting anxiously for him to open the door, and when, inevitably, he did, they’d kiss and touch and fuck somewhere in his apartmnet.

However, Yanchen also appears more in his daily life, the life he has outside of the classroom, outside of the dance studio, and outside of the bedroom. 

For instance, Zeren spies Yanchen one day at lunch in the chemistry hallways, talking to a group of girls. He doesn’t really want to interrupt whatever they’re talking about, so he pushes his baseball cap more securely over his face and tries to sneak past them so that he can get to the cafeteria without being noticed.

It doesn’t work.

He’s barely walked past him before Yanchen is turning, his stupidly bright smile stretched across his face, waving at Zeren even though they’re only a few meters apart.

“Zeren!” he chirps. Zeren stops, not unaware of the dirty looks the girls are giving him.

“Hey.”

“Where are you heading?”

“Cafeteria. Zhengting and them are waiting for me there.”

“Oh, nice. Can I join?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Yanchen frowns. “Unless you don’t want me there. That’s totally okay--”

“No, no. Don’t worry. It’s not like that.” Zeren waves his hand. It’s funny. Yanchen always does this: assume that it’s _Zeren_ who doesn’t welcome him when in fact, it’s just that Zeren never understands what someone like Yanchen would want to do with someone like him. “Just making sure.”

Yanchen beams at him and quickly runs to his side after bidding the girls goodbye. Zeren tries to ignore the looks of disappointment and annoyance that washes over their faces. “Who’s gonna be there?”

“Zhengting. Wenjun. Cheng. Justin.” He checks them off mentally. “And Xinchun and Quanzhe. You probably don’t know them, but Xinchun’s a sophomore in business with me, and Quanzhe’s a freshman in sociology.”

“Xinchun. Is he the one dating Lu Dinghao?”

“Oh, you know about that as well?”

Yanchen peers at him. “I’m right then?”

Zeren shakes his head. “They’re not _dating_ , but they might as well be at this point.”

“It’s one of those cases then.” Yanchen stretches, the muscles in his arms flexing. Zeren tries not to stare, but it’s hard not to when they’re right in front of him. 

“How’s school?” he asks, to take his mind off Yanchen’s hot arms.

Yanchen hums. “It’s alright. We have a lab to hand in, but for the most part, I think senior year hasn’t been the worst.” He snorts. “I’m sure I won’t be saying that when it’s time to study for the MCATs.”

“You’re smart though, aren’t you?”

Yanchen shrugs. “Depends on what you mean by smart. Xingjie gets better grades but.” He glances around furtively, as if genuinely afraid someone might overhear. “I think I’m _smarter_.”

Zeren laughs. “He’d beat you up for that.”

“He always beats me up anyways.” Yanchen grins, then tosses an arm over his shoulder. Zeren tells himself to calm down, because even if he’s hot and now he’s the guy he’s sleeping with, it’s common knowledge that Yanchen is flirty by nature, and that he’s always been a touchy person to start with. “What about you? How is sophomore year treating you?”

Zeren shrugs. “It’s alright, I guess. Homework. Essays. Kind of boring.”

“Boring?” Yanchen raises his eyebrows. 

“Just a little bit.”

Yanchen seems to sense the sliver of bitterness in his voice when he says this, because he squeezes his shoulder for a moment. “I see.”

“My parents wanted me to do business,” he says, then laughs to dispel the discomfort that’s seeped into him. “I’m a good son.”

“I see,” Yanchen says again. Zeren looks up to see that he’s frowning slightly, and he wonders for a second if he should say something to let him know that it’s okay, Zeren isn’t depressed or anything about it. However, seconds later, it’s gone, replaced by his usual sunny smile. “At least you don’t need to sit through eight more years of school like I probably will after undergrad.”

Zeren agrees with a smile. Yanchen changes the topic after that, asking Zeren about his opinion on some video game that’s coming out in a month. Zeren learns that both he and Yanchen are Legend of Zelda fans, and that Yanchen needs to wear glasses when he plays them. By the time they’ve arrived at the cafeteria, and Zeren can see Wenjun’s head over the groups of people, he’s pretty comfortable. He could have even forgotten that they fucked the night before.

It’s just Zhengting and Wenjun for now; Justin and Chengcheng and the rest of them are probably late. Zhengting eyes them when they sit down at the table. “Yanchen?” He turns to Zeren. “Why’d you bring him? I thought it was clear that there’s a time limit for how long I’ll tolerate Zhou Yanchen.”

Yanchen smiles sweetly at him. “You love me.”

Zhengting sighs. Zeren wants to laugh, but decides against it. It’s not like he’s wrong. Zhengting, for all his talk about how much the members of the dance team drive him crazy, loves each and every one of them. And Yanchen, pretty, nice Yanchen who was the one who introduced him to the dance team in the first place, is no exception.

“How’s work been?” Wenjun asks Yanchen once he’s gotten his box of noodles that Zeren recognizes is from the local restaurant. He must be finishing up leftovers. 

Yanchen shrugs. “ There are so many high school students who come around now to pet the cats, so I guess it’s busier.” He sighs. “Only problem is that more high schoolers there mean that less college students want to come. I get lonely.”

Zhengting nods sympathetically. “We’ll come visit you more then.” He beams at Zeren. “Zeren here really likes cats, so he’ll probably go see you sometime.”

“You like cats?” It’s almost comical how happy Yanchen looks for a moment when he turns to Zeren again.

“... yeah?” Zeren nods. “They’re soft and I don’t need to walk them. What’s not to love?”

“Come visit me and my cats then.” Yanchen smiles and leans on one of his hands. “As long as you buy a coffee, you can stay for as long as you like.”

_Yanchen sort of looks like a cat as well_ , he observes unconsciously, then blushes for some stupid reason. “Okay. Sometime.”

***

Sometime turns out to be the next day, when Chengcheng and Justin are being too loud in their apartment to study peacefully in, and all Zeren wants is some quiet so that he can memorize the math formulas he needs for the quiz next week. He remembers Yanchen’s offer then, texting him a quick message before packing up his laptop and textbooks.

He pauses by the mirror as he heads out, and for a brief moment of time, he wonders if he should put on something nicer. He’s just wearing one of his old hoodies, the one with a band logo printed across the front, and he has track pants on instead of jeans. But then, he reminds himself that he’s just going to study and not to impress anyone, so he bustles out of the house without another thought.

The cat cafe Yanchen works at isn’t too far from where he lives, so it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing open the glass door. Immediately, there are two cats by his legs, scurrying around, nosing their cute faces into his track pants. Zeren's resolve is weak, so he drops to his knees right away and picks one of them up to pet.

“Cute.” Yanchen’s voice is smiling from above him.

Zeren looks up at him. Yanchen’s wearing a sky blue sweater on top of ripped black jeans, and altogether, he looks so soft and huggable that he could cry. “They’re so cute,” he agrees.

“I wasn’t just talking about the cats.” Then, at Zeren’s flustered expression, he laughs. “There’s a tall seat where I’m working. Come study there.”

Zeren carries the cat and his laptop to where Yanchen is gesturing for him to sit, and when he slips into the seat, Yanchen’s set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“That’s okay--”

“It’s on the house,” Yanchen insists. “I even drew a little heart in the middle, just for you.”

Zeren rolls his eyes. “Thanks then.”

“Thanks for keeping me company.” Yanchen smiles at him once more before getting back to work. Zeren pulls up his notes from earlier and begins to review his notes, comfortable with the quiet and the cats and the smell of coffee and the way Yanchen is humming under his breath.

***

Zeren groans as he pushes himself back down onto him. It seems like each time he moves his hips, stars explode all throughout his body, so good that they render him weak and unfeeling in the legs.

Yanchen has his hands on his hips, squeezing with just the right pressure. He’s looking up at Zeren, his eyes cloudy with arousal, his face covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps.

Zeren acquiesces and begins to move again. It feels even better this time, with Yanchen’s hot gaze sweeping across him, and when he’s nearing the end, he can feel Yanchen’s hand wrap around him, stroking him gently. It doesn’t take too much longer for him to tip over the edge.

***

True to his word, Yanchen shows up in front of his apartment complex two weeks later in a black Mazda that looks like it’s seen better days. Zeren watches as he pulls into a parking space in front of the building before turning away from the window and making his way to the door.

Chengcheng eyes him from where he’s lying on the couch, a bag of chips on his chest and Justin sitting on the ground by his shoulders. “Are you leaving now?”

“Yeah. He’s here.” Zeren pulls on his Converses as Justin frowns.

“Who’s here? Where’s Zeren going?”

“Yanchen’s taking him paintballing,” Chengcheng explains, then, on a whim it seems, he buries his fingers into Justin’s dyed brown hair, earning a squawk from the younger boy.

“Dude, you have cheese dust on your hands,” he complains, then turns to Zeren with a confused look on his face. “I didn’t know you and Yanchen were close.”

“We’re not.” _Not in the literal sense, at least._ Zeren doesn’t mention how Yanchen sucked him off two nights earlier, his eyes shining up at him as Zeren tried to muffle his moans into the back of his hand. “He’s just bringing me because Xingjie couldn’t make it in the end.”

“So you’re _getting_ closer.” Chengcheng eats another chip and speaks with his mouth open to Justin. “Zeren’s been going over to Yanchen’s a lot these days. And he keeps leaving to study at the cat cafe he works at when he thinks we aren’t looking”

“ _Oh_.” Justin turns back to him with a devious smirk on his face. Zeren groans, promising to himself that he’s going to strangle the two of them when he gets home, and decides that it’s about time he went down to meet Yanchen.

“What’s up?” Yanchen asks, when he’s in the car and has shut the door behind him. “You look frazzled.”

“Chengcheng and Justin,” he answers. Yanchen laughs.

“We’ve all been there. I swear, if they didn’t have each other, I don’t know who would be insane enough to put up with their bullshit.”

Zeren shakes his head sadly before leaning back. Yanchen has pretty good music taste, he’s found, and this remix of Havana and 24K isn’t bad at all. “What’s the plan for today?”

“I thought I sent you the details,” Yanchen jeered. Zeren rolled his eyes.

“I thought you knew what I meant.”

“Hmm, maybe I didn’t. Did you have any other plans in mind other than paintballing?” Yanchen smirks without looking at him.

_Bastard_. “I was thinking you could buy me chicken,” he deadpans.

Yanchen chuckles. “Okay. I’ll buy chicken if you don’t cry today when you get shot up.”

“I thought you said that it wouldn’t hurt that much!”

“A ruse.” At Zeren’s horrified face, he grins wide. “Just kidding. It doesn’t hurt too bad, but you can still feel it when you get shot. Kind of like a really hard flick.” He grins even wider. “After all, the real pain comes afterwards, with all the bruises.”

Zeren groans. “I’m beginning to think that this was a bad idea.”

“I always have bad ideas. You’re just stuck with them now.”

Zeren chooses to begin praying that his skin wouldn’t be comparable to a cheetah print after paintballing was over.

“Hey.” Yanchen’s voice is softer now. He glances at Zeren for a moment, then reaches a hand out to pat him on the thigh. “If you’d rather back out, that’s cool. I can take you to some KFC from the start instead.”

His hand is very warm, so warm, in fact, that Zeren can feel the burn of it through his jeans. 

He shakes his head again. “Paintballing.”

“Paintballing,” Yanchen echoes, and removes his hand. He can’t hide the smile on his face, however, and similarly, Zeren can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it.

***

Paintballing is fun.

He should have expected to enjoy it from the start. Hell, he’s a dancer. He lives for the moments of exhilaration like these, where his blood is pounding in his head and all the energy is concentrating inside of him, just waiting to burst out.

Just like Yanchen said, the bullets hurt, but not in an overwhelming way. In fact, they only seem to increase his excitement further, make him want to shoot more, run more, yell more, laugh more.

And Yanchen is a great partner for it. After showing Zeren how to use the gun, he leads Zeren to what he cites are the best spots to snipe people from, and together, they lie on their stomachs, ready for an attack. And when finally, they’re caught and are forced to run, he holds out his hand, his eyes shining with a laugh, and yanks Zeren off their little perch and into a sweat-breaking run.

Zeren doesn’t remember ever having as much fun as he did that afternoon.

Yanchen is handsome when he shoots, he observes. So focused and put together like he always is, whether he’s studying, working, dancing, or anything. He’s also focused each time Zeren doesn’t move out of the way fast enough, concern etching into his pretty, sweaty features as he asks Zeren if he’s okay.

It’s exhilarating, and Zeren feels something stir inside him each time Yanchen fixes his cat-like, careful gaze on him.

Later on, when they’re out of the facility, and when Yanchen is laughing so brightly about some shot he made, Zeren doesn’t think he can wait any longer. As soon as they’re behind the building, he tugs Yanchen down by the shirt and presses his mouth to his.

Yanchen seems surprised at first, but to his credit, he picks up pretty quickly, and soon, he’s kissing him back hungrily, his hands palming at his hips.

“Couldn’t wait… until we got back?” He pants into Zeren’s mouth.

Zeren doesn’t answer. Instead, he rolls his hips against his, letting a moan escape from his lips.

He can feel Yanchen smile against his lips, his cock quickly hardening under his jeans with each press of Zeren’s waist against his front. “Car?”

Zeren tugs him to it.

Yanchen presses him to the back seat as soon as they get to it, and Zeren barely has enough time to be glad that it’s darkening, and that there doesn’t seem to be any street lights in the back alley of the paintballing facility, before Yanchen is kissing him so thoroughly, he can feel it down to his core. 

Yanchen seems just as turned on as he is by it all, because he doesn’t waste his time before beginning to press hot, wet kisses along the column of his throat. Zeren gasps, leans his head back and moans, his body shocked into arousal.

Yanchen tugs at the bottom of his shirt. “Take this off.” His breath is hot against his neck.

Zeren undresses, then pouts and runs his hands along Yanchen’s bare arms. “You too.”

Yanchen chuckles and shucks his shirt off, and at about the same time, Zeren’s mouth falls open, because just like Yanchen predicted, his torso and abdomen is splattered with purple and green bruises. And from the looks Yanchen is giving him, he can assume that he looks the same.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, but he can’t stop but press a finger to one of the bruises just under Yanchen’s ribs.

Yanchen winces. “You could go a little lower than that.”

Zeren glares at him, but it’s broken by the moan that escapes his mouth when Yanchen rolls his hips down.

Yanchen continues to press wet, hot kisses all along Zeren’s neck and torso. He circles his tongue across each of Zeren’s bruises, his fingers grinding into his hips, and the mixture of pain and pleasure is enough to turn Zeren into a desperate, begging mess. He pants into Yanchen’s neck, keening as he sucks another bruise into his collarbone, his hands slipping across his back.

Yanchen grinds down harder. Zeren gasps as white hot pleasure rushes through him.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about doing this to you during paintballing.” Yanchen bites the side of his throat, his hand leaving Zeren’s hip to dip into his pants. “You’re so hot, Zeren, when you’re tense and sweaty and _fuck_.”

He’s cut off by a particularly hard thrust of Zeren’s hips against his. “Keep doing that and I’ll come.”

“I thought that was the point,” Zeren quips, but he doesn’t get much more out, because Yanchen returns to kissing him, all open-mouth and wet and hot.

Zeren’s hands trail up to Yanchen’s waist, and he squeezes it hard, hoping somewhere deep inside him that it’ll bruise, and when Yanchen rolls his waist against his again, he comes so hard he sees stars.

***

“What the hell, Zeren. Who the hell did you fuck?” Chengcheng gapes at him from where he’s lying on his bed, staring in abject horror at the myriad of bruises all over his torso and neck.

“I went paintballing.” Zeren rolls his eyes. “You bruise after paintballing, dummy.”

Chengcheng pointed at his neck. “You get shot up here as well?”

Zeren’s hands go to his throat, and his fingers touch the pattern of hickeys Yanchen sucked into his skin there. He can’t stop the burn that spreads across his cheeks.

He ignores Chengcheng’s squawking at him, praying that he won’t tell the others and have Zhengting and Wenjun interrogate him all over again, and leaves the room. He promised to meet Yanchen in the studio today.

***

Yanchen is all the little things.

Zeren grows to learn this about him in the weeks that follow. Whether he’s writing an essay, choreographing one of their dances, or making a cream swirl in a coffee, he’s meticulous, his eyes trained on nothing except for whatever he has on hand, making sure to not forget the smallest detail.

He’s the same way in bed with Zeren. Each time they fuck, Yanchen makes sure to take him apart ever so carefully, pressing in just the right places and touching him when he needs him to. And in the same way he stares at the heart he draws on Zeren’s customary coffee each time he visits the cafe (still citing that it’s ‘just for him’), he doesn’t tear his eyes off him, no matter if he’s fingering him, sucking him off, fucking into him slowly.

It’s a strange feeling, being at the other end of his stares. Each time Yanchen looks at him, it’s like he can see right through him, his gaze a hot, piercing force into him. But it also feels good, because Zeren’s come to know that Yanchen only looks at things he truly needs to focus on that way, and he thinks he likes the idea of being Yanchen’s everything, even if it’s just for a few moments.

He doesn’t like to think of this outside of sex, however. Each time his thoughts stray to anything close to having anything more with Yanchen other than sex and whatever friendship they’ve managed to build up, his brain kicks him into autopilot, and he’s forced into that sensation of foolishness, where he reminds himself over and over again that there’s nothing to it except for sex.

However, it’s hard to reject his growing feelings for the boy, not when Yanchen is so frustratingly kind, and he shares the same interests with Zeren, and overall, he’s so soft and so bright and somehow makes whatever Zeren’s day is turning out to be into a good one.

One evening, three months after they’ve started sleeping with each other, Zeren is leaning against the wall to the restaurant he works as a waiter at, his hands trembling and clutching at his phone. His breath is coming quick, and even though he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, he can’t stop the tears from squeezing against his skin.

“Zeren?” Yanchen’s voice comes floating from in front of him.

Zeren removes his hands from his eyes and looks at him. “Why are you here?”

Yanchen shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I thought I’d come pick you up after work. Take you to get some chicken, you know. I just remembered that I forgot to take you after the first time we went paintballing.”

Zeren smiles weakly, but his heart collapses on itself and it’s not long before the tears are coming again.

Yanchen’s arms are around him in a second, his face buried into Zeren’s hair. Zeren is stiff for a moment, but something inside of him is telling him that he needs this, and it’s not long before he’s wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing his wet face into Yanchen’s jacket.

Zeren cries, his phone still clenched in his hand. Yanchen runs his hand up and down Zeren’s back, not saying anything, just letting Zeren let it all out.

He doesn’t even ask any questions. He just stands there, his arms holding Zeren up, his breath soft and warm by his ear, until Zeren doesn’t feel like crying anymore.

***

Another time, Zeren is in the campus library when Yanchen shows up, his bright face so in contrast with the tumultuous feelings boiling inside of Zeren that Zeren wants to yell at him to go away, to leave him alone for just one moment.

He doesn’t though. He sits there, watching Yanchen slide into the seat across from him and hand him a paper back.

“Chocolate croissant.” He beams. “I saved one for you.”

Zeren opens the bag to see the golden pastry lying at the bottom, and all of a sudden, he’s angry. He’s angry because he’s hurting and when all he wants is for everything to be okay, the world gives him smiling, happy, _perfect_ Zhou Yanchen and his cold croissants and his eager eyes.

He doesn’t really have the right to throw a fit there, not when Yanchen doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so upset, so instead, he shoves the bag away from him and makes for the exit. His brain is telling him that he probably shouldn’t leave his expensive business textbooks and laptop on the table, but who fucking cares? Zeren doesn’t. He never wanted to take business in the first place. Why should he care if someone who actually needs and wants them takes them?

Yanchen catches up with him a few steps away from the exit. He grabs Zeren by the shoulder and whips him around so that he’s facing him. Zeren tries to pull away, but Yanchen just clutches at him harder and forces him to look directly at him.

“Zeren,” he breathes. “What’s wrong?”

Zeren shakes his head helplessly and shoves him away again. This time, when Yanchen reaches for him, he twists out of his hands and runs out of the library, not caring if it’s December and his jacket is still lying on the table. All he wants is to get out, run a while, so that he doesn’t feel like screaming anymore.

So Zeren runs, his feet hitting the pavement, ignoring Yanchen’s calls for him, cutting through the wind and the cold and breathing hard even though he doesn’t feel tired at all.

He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but when he finally stops, his lungs and legs burning as he leans against a wall, he realizes that he’s only a few blocks away from Yanchen’s apartment complex.

Touche. Of course Zeren would do something like this.

Zeren stops then, because he’s so frustrated, and because he’s so angry at everything, he doesn’t know _what_ he should do.

Go back and get his stuff? Probably the smartest choice, but is it really? Zeren doesn’t know what he’d do to his notes in a moment of weakness like this, when he hates everything about his life.

Go home? Definitely not. Chengcheng would freak out at the sight of him without a jacket and emotions spilling out. The kid is annoying, but he really does care, and Zeren doesn’t want to have to bother him tonight. 

He’s pondering over walking around a little and trying to conserve some body heat while he can when he hears footsteps behind him.

He turns carefully.

Yanchen has Zeren’s backpack slung over his shoulder, Zeren’s jacket draped over his arm. He’s panting as he braces one of his hands against the wall, his breath escaping in little clouds from his lips. He nods a little when he sees that Zeren isn’t running away anymore.

“You… forgot your stuff.” He shifts his shoulder so that the backpack is hanging from his arm instead.

Frustration bubbles up from within Zeren again, hot and almost tipping him over the edge again. Yanchen came for him. He ran after him. With his stuff. The bag with the chocolate croissant-- that Yanchen saved for him-- is scrunched up in his fist. 

Yanchen swallows and meets Zeren’s eyes. 

Zeren makes it in front of him in two steps and rams his mouth against his, ignoring the surprised squeak that leaves Yanchen’s lips. He runs his tongue across Yanchen’s mouth, then bites it, savouring the way Yanchen hisses.

Yanchen kisses him back. The things drop out of his arms and he wraps them around Zeren’s waist, swaying slightly. He lets Zeren kiss him, and the only interruption he gives is when Zeren pulls back for air and Yanchen gasps, “Are you sure about this?”

“Fuck me,” Zeren responds, then ruts his crotch against Yanchen’s leg. Perhaps he’ll regret this tomorrow, and maybe Yanchen won’t want him in his bed after whatever Zeren is capable of doing in the moment. But for now, there’s only fire in his veins, and he wants it to stop burning him from the inside.

“Okay,” Yanchen breaths, before cupping Zeren’s face in his hands and kissing him again. Zeren moans into it, grinding against Yanchen’s leg, practically begging him now.

“Your place.”

“Okay.” 

And because he’s Yanchen, he doesn’t even forget to grab Zeren’s stuff that he dropped before letting Zeren lead him into his building, up the stairs, and eventually, into his apartment.

***

“Yanchen,” he moans, when they’re in his bedroom, and Zeren has Yanchen pressed up against the wall, his hips still grinding into his. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… please.”

Yanchen kisses him harder and doesn’t waste time in pulling his shirt over his head. Zeren’s hands go eagerly to his jeans, shucking them down to his thighs and turning him so that he can shove him onto the bed.

“Lube,” he groans. He’s painfully hard already, his hands shaking with arousal and pain, and he can’t help but rub his crotch against Yanchen’s hips as he straddles him on the bed.

Yanchen traces his thumb across his hip, his face carefully still as he hands him the lube with his other hand.

Greedily, Zeren slicks up his fingers and moves them towards his hole. His fingers are just breaching the entrance when he feels a hand close around his wrist.

“Zeren, stop,” Yanchen says firmly. Zeren opens his eyes and gazes down at him, seeing the stern, worried expression he has on. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The concern is overwhelming, and Zeren grits his teeth and shoves him back again. He places both of his hands on Yanchen’s chest and ruts into his stomach, not caring if the lube gets everywhere on them. “You said you would fuck me.”

“Zeren,” Yanchen says again, though it’s softer this time. “Stop.”

Zeren digs his fingers into Yanchen’s skin and grits his teeth hard. His voice is a snarl now. “Why does nothing ever go my way? I asked you to fuck me, and you said yes. What’s so fucking hard to understand?”

“Zeren, baby.” Yanchen puts his own hands on Zeren’s waist, squeezing ever so gently. He’s hard, Zeren can feel him against the cleft of his ass, but it apparently isn’t enough to stop him from gazing up at him with so much concern and worry that he feels sick. “Why are you hurting so much?”

And maybe it’s because of how gentle his voice is, how soft his gaze is as he looks up at him. Maybe it’s because of the pressure on his hips, but all of a sudden, Zeren is just tired, and he doesn’t want to fight anymore.

He slumps forward, letting Yanchen roll him off him and tuck him into his chest, his arms rubbing soothingly up his back.

Zeren doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t stop himself from shaking, and somehow, that hurts even worse.

***

“Are you okay with telling me what’s wrong?” Yanchen asks, a few hours later, when Zeren isn’t shaking anymore and his breathing’s mostly evened out. They’re still in the same position as they were hours ago, with Zeren tucked into his bare chest and Yanchen’s hands resting just above Zeren’s shirt collar. Yanchen’s stomach and ribs are still sticky from lube-- the results of Zeren’s hasty attempt to get off--, but he doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he didn’t seem to care for the entire three hours he held Zeren in the dark, the only sign that he wasn’t asleep being the movement of his fingers along his spine.

Zeren considers not telling him. After all, not many people knew what his problem was, and he wasn’t sure if someone like Yanchen was the perfect person to relieve his secrets to. Yanchen was just someone he fucked and hung out with occasionally; there was no reason to say anything more.

But he’s sad and tired, and he doesn’t want to fight anymore, so he just slips his head away from Yanchen’s chest and murmurs into the pillow, “I hate my life.”

Yanchen tightens his arms around him. “Why?” 

“I hate business.”

“Is that all?” Yanchen’s voice is suggestive, careful. Zeren’s isn’t.

“No.” He takes a shaky breath. “My mom is dying of cancer, and all she and my dad wanted to see before they died was for me to be on an actual career path. So I chose business, and it’s not even that bad. So how come it still hurts so much?”

Yanchen is silent.

“It’s fine, most of the time,” Zeren continues on. “But sometimes, when I can’t understand the concepts or when I just don’t fucking want to finish my assignments, I get so mad and frustrated that it had to be _me_ that was forced to take stupid, fucking _business_ instead.” He sniffs. “Did you know, Yanchen? I wanted to be a performing arts major. I wanted to choreograph stuff and dance professionally. Not just dance in the school dance team. And I feel so fucking selfish when I think about shit like that, because the only thing my mom ever wanted was for me to be a _normal_ kid who would find a good job and live out the rest of my life in peace, with a pretty wife and two kids.” He laughs harshly against the column of Yanchen’s throat. “She’s dying now. There’s another surgery in line for her, but she probably won’t survive that. And when she’s gone, I won’t know what the hell I’ll do with myself then.”

He stops, because his heart is hurting too bad, and the pain is stuffed in his throat, forcing the words down. Zeren slumps down again, and he’s tired.

“Is that what the phone call was about that time at work?” Yanchen asks gently. Zeren nods.

Yanchen takes in a long breath. Zeren can feel the air vibrating against his neck.

Zeren sighs and buries his face into Yanchen’s chest again. His voice is shaking when he speaks again. “Why is everything going so wrong?”

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” Yanchen pulls him closer into his chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

He continues to talk to him soothingly, rubbing small circles into Zeren’s back, until Zeren gives into the tiredness all throughout his body and falls asleep.

***

Things are more careful after that, at least on Zeren’s part. He wakes up the next morning, still sticky from lube, and dread immediately pools in his stomach at the memory of how he acted around Yanchen last night. 

He moves and realizes that Yanchen is no longer in bed.

_You scared him away_ , he thinks, his heart sinking.

However, even before his brain can panic and figure out what to do in this situation, there are footsteps outside the door, and moments later, Yanchen’s form is hovering by the door.

“You’re awake!” He smiles. He’s showered; his hair is slightly damp with how it falls over his forehead, and there’s no longer streaks of lube covering his torso. He has a yellow and green striped shirt on, and with his glasses perched on his nose, he altogether looks so gentle and soft that Zeren could melt.

Zeren nods. “I’m awake,” he confirms.

“I made breakfast,” Yanchen offered. “If you’re okay with staying for a bit, that is.”

Zeren nods, then, in a moment of weakness, he says, “If you’re okay with _having_ me.”

Yanchen looks at him then, _really_ looks at him. His gaze is soft and gentle, and his voice is slightly amused, as if he himself was astounded by the suggestion that he _wouldn’t_ want Zeren after that. “Why wouldn’t I want to have you?”

And all of a sudden, he feels the urge to cry again.

***

Yanchen looks the best when he’s under him, moaning softly as Zeren grinds inside of him, but second to that, he looks the best when he’s in the dance studio.

It’s because he approaches each aspect of his life with so much passion that he’s able to look like liquid movement, his limbs twisting and stopping at just the right moments, every part of him hard yet soft, rough but smooth.

Zeren watched him on the day he first tried out for the dance team, and he watches him now as he tests the ends of this new dance he has in mind, his every move careful and precise. Beautiful.

After his rash confession to Yanchen that night, Zeren’s been spending more time in the studio. Perhaps it’s his way of forgetting, to commit himself to the one thing that makes him truly happy for a short burst of time so that he can go back and make his parents proud.

And here’s the thing: he really does want to make his parents proud. He wants to do this for them, at least, to show his mom that he’s going to make her happy if it’s the last thing he’ll do for her. And, somber as it sounds, it might just be.

However, right now is his time. It might be Yanchen’s too, because Zeren and him have been dancing together these days, creating dances and moving together to the music Xingjie composes for them. But for the most part, Zeren thinks of these times as his own little bubble of happiness, and if Yanchen is part of that happiness, he has no objection.

The door creaks open, and Zeren turns to see that it’s Zhengting and Xukun coming to visit them. Zhengting has his dogs in his arms and Xukun has a bag of bubble tea hanging on his wrist, and both are smiling at them as they step into the room.

“Still choreographing?” Xukun asks, handing one of the bubble teas to Zeren.

“Zeren did most of it this time.” Yanchen takes his own bubble tea from the bag and beams at him. 

“I was never asking you in the first place,” Xukun jeered. “Zeren’s gonna dethrone you with how many pieces he’s been creating.”

He expected Yanchen to snort, refute him with something clever, or just whine sadly. However, he does none of these things. Instead, he takes a sip of tea through his straw and smiles softly. “I hope he does.”

Zhengting hasn’t said anything yet, but he raises his eyebrows at this and glances pointedly at Zeren. Zhengting knows about the two of them, he knows. It’s been months now since he first started sleeping with Yanchen, and something so consistent that stretched on for so long wouldn’t go unmissed in his eyes, especially with how perceptive he is with the people he cares about. 

Zeren doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches out to pet Wubaiwan.

“Let me hold Fuli,” Yanchen coos. Zhengting hands him over. “I’m getting so used to cats now, I’m forgetting what it’s like holding a dog.”

He scratches Fuli behind the ears and turns to Zeren, beaming. “I should adopt a dog.”

It’s stupid, because that’s the moment something inside of Zeren decides to crack. It’s nothing painful, but Zeren can feel it right down to his core, that splitting, aching feeling. He says aching, because it throbs all throughout the rest of his body, like water lapping at a shore, and each time it does, a new wave of warmth engulfs him entirely.

But just as quickly as it came, it’s gone, clinking back into place behind whatever steel structures Zeren has erected around his heart to keep it from hurting anymore. And Zeren is left staring at Yanchen’s bright, smiling face, with his pretty eyes and gentle hands holding the dog to his cheek, feeling like he’s just been punched to the pavement so hard, all the breath is knocked out of his lungs.

“Zeren?” Yanchen lowers Fuli and frowns. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” he chokes out as soon as he can. He pets Wubaiwan more to dispel the tremors that are threatening to creep into him, and smiles the best he can. “I was just thinking that your boss would fire you if you actually got a dog and not a cat.”

Yanchen scowls and begins to ramble about how tired he is of the smell of cat food or something. Zeren’s heard this rant many times before, so he’s not really listening. Instead, he’s stroking the top of Wubaiwan’s head, trying to get his heart to stop beating in overdrive. 

He can feel Zhengting’s eyes on him, the edges of concern just peeking out in his gaze.

***

_Yanchen’s wanted to be a doctor ever since he was a little kid._

_His favourite animals are pomeranians, but he claims that he’s a cat person and he thought that he could talk to cats when he was younger._

_His detergent smells like lavender._

_He hates the taste of garlic, and he can’t eat anything too spicy._

_He never sleeps with the AC on._

_His favourite brand is Converse._

Zeren runs the little things he knows about Yanchen through his head as Yanchen presses him against the bed. Why he’s doing it, he’s not very sure, but he thinks that maybe it’s a way to distract himself from the way Yanchen is circling his fingers around Zeren’s rim, dipping in every once in a while as he kisses the insides of Zeren’s thighs.

“Yanchen, please,” he moans, his back arching.

Yanchen has the nerve to grin. “Patience, baby. _Patience_.”

Zeren doesn’t have the mind to retort before Yanchen’s hands are back at his hole, tugging at the rim slightly, the lube on his fingers fucking messily into him.

Yanchen stretches him slowly, makes sure that the slick on his fingers is loosening him enough, and the entire time, he looks at Zeren: at his crotch, at his abdomen, at his face. It’s almost too much, and Zeren covers up his face the next time Yanchen’s fingers probe at his prostate.

Yanchen moves his hands away, purring softly. “I want to see your face when you moan.”

And as if to go along with what he said, his fingers press hard against his prostate, rubbing into it, and Zeren all but screams as pleasure races through his body. 

“Yanchen, _please_ ,” he moans again, this time with his face uncovered.

Yanchen grins and slips his fingers out of him. Zeren can hear him slide the condom onto himself, and then later on, slick up his cock with more lube. However, it doesn’t prepare him enough for when Yanchen lines himself up at his entrance and slides himself in.

“ _Fuck_ .” He keens, because it feels _so_ good, and it’s only just been the start. 

Yanchen chuckles breathlessly. “Are you going to last if you feel this good when I’m not even completely in?”

Zeren runs his nails up his back and chokes back another moan; Yanchen is grinding into him, pressing against his prostate the way he knows makes Zeren’s legs shake. It’s infuriating, how well he knows Zeren’s body now, how effortlessly he can make Zeren gasp and beg for more.

“You… you gotta do more than that,” he breaths, and Yanchen grins. 

He bottoms out, grinding one more time at Zeren’s prostate, before pulling out fast and ramming himself back in again. He fucks Zeren hard and fast, his arms wrapped around his legs, and it feels so good that Zeren doesn’t even have time to gasp.

“This better?” Yanchen says later, though his hips are still moving in tandem, pressing against Zeren and pulling away. He turns his face and sucks a hickey into the inside of his thigh, still smiling as he does so.

Zeren chokes out a moan, and Yanchen grins before letting go of him and returning his hands to his hips. He continues to fuck him hard until Zeren comes with a strangled cry all over his stomach. It’s only a matter of time before Yanchen comes too, pulsing inside of him, and as usual, Yanchen muffles his own moan by pressing a wet, messy kiss against Zeren’s mouth.

Zeren’s entire body is like rubber, but Yanchen doesn’t seem to care, collapsing on top of him as soon as he’s finished, grinning when Zeren whines.

The feeling comes to him again then, in his blissed-out, post-sex state. That throbbing, hot ache that gushes all throughout his body and makes Zeren feel bruised all over, no feelings other than _want_ pulsing through him.

They’ve been coming more often now. Each time Yanchen smiles at him with one of the cat cafe kittens in his arms. When he presses Zeren’s hip to move him into the right position during a routine. When he’s leaning against the wall, a coffee in his hand, waiting for Zeren to finish class so that they can go to Yanchen’s apartment and finish that one video game they’ve been playing together. They come in waves, washing over him, always lapping at the shore, undeniable, unrelenting. 

Terrifying.

***

It’s not every day that Zeren sees Yanchen sad.

Out of the two of them, Zeren is the moody one. The one who has swings of emotions, where sometimes, all he wants is to shut down and cry. Yanchen is always the more stable one, the one who can hold Zeren when he feels down, the one who always manages to make whatever room he walks into bright and sunny and happy.

However, Zeren comes to realize, Yanchen isn’t just the sunny, pretty boy that he thought he was before he actually got to know him.

There are times that Yanchen texts him as well, asking him to come over to his place, no cat emojis or any other silly emoticon he likes to use in place. There are times that Zeren gets into his car and Yanchen drives too fast on the roads without a word. There are times he walks into the dance studio, only to find Yanchen crumpled on the ground, exhausted and trembling and sad.

Like right now. Zeren pushes open the door to the studio, two cans of green tea in his hands, and sees Yanchen lying spread eagle in the middle of the classroom. Yanchen has a long-sleeve grey shirt on, but it doesn’t hide the trembling in his arms.

Zeren’s seen him like this before, and each time, he does the same. 

Carefully, he sets the cans in his hands to the ground before pacing over and taking a seat by Yanchen’s head. He doesn’t say anything, but takes Yanchen’s hand in both of his own, squeezing as gently as he could.

Sometimes, when Yanchen is sad, it’s because of something trivial. It could be a bad quiz. A particularly gruelling day at work. Or maybe it could be something more important to him: a failed choreography sequence. An argument with Xingjie.

However, today, Zeren can sense that it’s none of the above.

Yanchen turns on his side and buries his face into Zeren’s legs. Zeren runs one of his hands through Yanchen’s hair, humming softly.

“Thank god you’re here,” Yanchen breaths into his legs.

Zeren doesn’t say anything.

“I called my parents today,” Yanchen confesses, still talking into his leg. Zeren’s hands still in his hair; Yanchen hasn’t really talked about them before, though from the snippets of what he’s said, he knows that he doesn’t have the best relationship with them.

“How was it?” he asks carefully.

Yanchen sighs. “Fine. They’re polite and all, but it’s just the same as before. They don’t really know what to say to me anymore as parents, and everything they do have to say is always so stiff and uncomfortable.”

He laughs, but it sounds more sorrowful than anything. “I don’t think they’re over the fact that I like both girls and guys.”

Zeren nods slowly. 

“You know, it’s just worse because I know that they really do love me. It hurts more because it feels like I’m the reason why they can’t treat me like a son anymore. Talking to them feels like I’m talking to strangers who don’t actually know or even want to know me.”

Zeren resumes stroking Yanchen’s hair. “You can’t think that way.” Yanchen turns from his leg to peer up at him, his cat-like eyes wide and sad. “You can’t guilt yourself into feeling sad over people who don’t understand you, not when there are so many others that love and appreciate you for who you really are.”

Yanchen is silent for a while after this, turning back to bury his face in Zeren’s leg. Zeren swallows and gently runs his hands through his hair.

But when Yanchen looks at him again, a few minutes later, his face a little less sad but his gaze as piercing as it’s always been, Zeren is afraid for a moment that he’s seen through him. That he’s seen the little piece of Zeren’s heart that he’s occupied completely, and is slowly tainting the rest of him with, like snow melting into spring grass.

***

And like that, Zeren’s crush on the hot senior on his dance team. 

The one who smiles like the sun and who every person on campus with functioning eyes has had a crush on before. The one who works at a cat cafe and makes Zeren’s coffees with a heart on top. The one who can’t eat spice but who’ll do it because Zeren loves it and he’s too kind to say no.

It grows. And Zeren isn’t sure if he can just call it a crush anymore.

***

Zeren’s mom passes away in March. 

Zeren takes the train back home to go to the funeral, but he can’t afford to stop working, so he doesn’t have time to grieve before he’s back in school, studying for exams and trying to make enough money to pay off the hospital bills.

Chengcheng and Justin and Zhengting and Wenjun and all of his friends are worried for him, but they know that he doesn’t want to cry about it anymore, and even more so, they know that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

But Yanchen doesn’t. Rather, he seems to press the sore spots the most, not hesitating before enveloping him in a hug that only just makes Zeren want to cry more. Zeren hugs him in between school and work and dance, and when he cries, it’s into Yanchen’s lavender smelling shirts that he does. And eventually, when he goes to sleep, it’s in Yanchen’s arms and with Yanchen’s head tucked just above his.

He feels safe, warm, soft. And even though Zeren hates the way it feels, he feels like a piece of home he’s just lost.

It’s about this time that he realizes that he’s in love with Yanchen.

***

Being in love with someone that he was never supposed to have in the first place is agonizing. It’s like stabbing himself slowly, pressing the knife into himself when he knows already how much it’s going to hurt. Zeren should have realized what he was doing to himself much earlier than he did, but by the time he’s willing to admit it, it’s too late. He’s too far gone into Yanchen’s soft smile and gentle hands and bright, cat-like eyes.

The logical thing to do would be to come clean about it to Yanchen, to tell him that he’s caught feelings for him, and to cut it off after that. Zeren doesn’t know what he’d do once the bond’s been severed and Yanchen is no more than just an acquaintance to him again, but he thinks that he can manage. After all, it was his fault that he fell in love with him in the first place.

However, the miserable, poisoned part of himself wallows in pain each time he thinks of this possibility, and it’s all he can do to tell his heart to shut up and not traitorously hurt so much.

But sometimes, in the shower, Zeren gives into his weakness and indulges himself with the other outcome. Where he and Yanchen could be together, not stuck in this category between friends and lovers, and Zeren could be happy. However, he’s quick to squash these thoughts down, because he knows that it’s foolish to consider cases that won’t happen, and he doesn’t want to make it hurt more when the day comes.

For now, Zeren lets the days slip through his fingers, dragging them out as long as he can, enjoying the comfort that Yanchen has brought into his life, as well as all the light and hope and happiness.

He’d probably stay that way for even longer, ignoring the growing feelings stirring inside of him, if it wasn’t for Yanchen’s comments one night after sex.

They’re tangled in the bedsheets, Yanchen tucked comfortably behind Zeren, his arms looped around his chest. Zeren’s hands are resting on Yanchen’s arm as he breathes in and out, in and out, taking in the calming scent of lavender that everything Yanchen owns smells like.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do in the future?” Yanchen’s breath tickles against the shell of his ear.

Zeren considers this. “I’ve been thinking about that… well… after my mom’s death. And I think that I’ll stick with business for the present. I’m not doing too bad, and it would be a waste to throw away two years of a good degree. I can get a decent job like that-- something cheaper, maybe, but with more free time-- and on the side, I can see if I can teach at some local dance studios or something.” He inhales Yanchen’s scent, letting warmth invade his body. “And eventually, I’m going to see if I can buy my own studio so that I can dance while still using my business degree.”

It’s a good vision, Zeren knows. He’s been thinking of this alternate possibility for weeks now, under Yanchen’s encouragement. His mother’s death was hard on him-- he loved her as much as any child could love their parents--, but in a way, it also set something inside of him free, allowing him to look into the future in a way that he hadn’t considered before.

Yanchen hums appreciatively. “I think that’s a good plan. You have Zhou Yanchen’s support.”

Zeren laughs. “And what about you? Consider dropping out of med school to become a professional paintballer yet?”

Yanchen buries his nose into Zeren’s hair, chuckling. “You know, that sounds pretty appealing. Maybe I’ll do that instead of becoming a doctor. My family would be so pleased.”

Zeren laughs. Yanchen does too, but when they quiet down and he speaks again, his tone is quiet and soft. “But for real. I’m just going to continue doing what I’ve been doing, getting into med school, dancing when I have the time. The only change I’ll make is with myself. I want to reevaluate what I need in my life, stop what I don’t need. Get a fresh start, you know?”

He kisses Zeren’s ear, sighing contentedly, but Zeren’s gone cold.

_Fresh start_ . _What I need_.

Yanchen falls asleep soon after, burying his face into the crook of Zeren’s shoulder, and after his breathing has evened out, Zeren lets out the shaky breath he’s been holding in.

He should have known. It was stupid, _stupid_ of him to let himself fall in love with this man. Not when Yanchen had only gotten close with him in the first place so that they could relieve each other. Not when there had never been anything else but sex between them.

***

“Yanchen?” Zeren calls him from where he’s standing at the mouth of the campus library. It’s raining, and he’s soaked to the bone, but he can’t seem to find it in himself to care.

“Hey,” Yanchen answers. There’s a soft tune playing in the background, probably some song Xingjie’s come up with for him. It sounds good, complementing Yanchen’s soft voice, and altogether, it just makes Zeren’s heart hurt even more. Yanchen sounds happy, relaxed, so different from the range of emotions Zeren feels right now.

“We have to end this,” he says, because he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand in the rain, feeling like his heart would crack.

Yanchen goes silent. Zeren hears the track playing in the background, and it, combined with the rush of rain all around him, serenades the pain he has in letting go.

“Why?” Yanchen finally asks, his voice thin and cracking.

_Because I’m not good enough for you. Because you need a fresh start, not someone damaged like me. Because there never should have been anything between us in the first place._

“Because I can’t do this anymore,” he answers, and it’s not a lie. His heart is splintering anyways, cracking down the middle until Zeren is the only thing that’s holding the pieces of it together.

“Okay,” Yanchen answers. He takes in a breath, as if to say something else, but Zeren’s already hanging up. He powers off his phone and pulls his hood over his head as he walks slowly through the rain back home. 

It doesn’t work. His heart falls apart in the end anyways, fracturing into a thousand brittle pieces of dust that he doesn’t know how he’s going to pick up again.

***

Yanchen tries to contact him in the next few days, whether it’s through calling him or texting him, or whether it’s by waiting for him at his restaurant or by his classes. Zeren avoids him successfully for the most part, and he makes it an entire week before their mutual friends get involved.

Chengcheng and Justin try first. They creep into his room when he’s watching some depressing Korean drama and can’t stop the tears from flowing, and huddle on either side of him, asking why he’s sad. Zeren doesn’t doubt that they already know (Chengcheng knows, at least, because he’s seen them kiss, and if Chengcheng knows, Justin knows as well), but he appreciates the space they give him to cry by himself. 

He needs to get over Yanchen by himself, because he’s afraid someone else touching his heart will break the little bits of it he’s managed to recollect all over again.

Zhengting and Wenjun come over next, trying to get the story out of him. And because it’s Zhengting-- kind, thoughtful, perceptive Zhengting--, he’s able to make Zeren spill the truth to them both.

“So basically you guys were sleeping together until you caught feelings and cut it off,” Wenjun says in disbelief. 

Zeren nods pathetically. 

Zhengting hasn’t said much ever since Zeren started talking, but he’s looking at him with the same look of concern he had that time in the dance studio, when Yanchen was cuddling Fuli and Zeren realized for the first time that he might be a little in love with this man. It’s sadder though, more tender.

“But why, Zeren?” he finally asks. “You didn’t need to cut him off entirely. You could have worked it out maybe, talked it through.”

Zeren swallows and digs his fingers into his blankets. It’s still raining outside, the sky grey and miserable and sad.

“Because he would leave me eventually, and I wanted to be the one who cut it off before it hurt too much.”

***

Zeren goes to class, works, and repeats. He stays away from the studio, the need to not see Yanchen greater than his need to dance.

Chengcheng tries to drag him out a couple times, whether it’s by inviting him to the movies or reminding him of the dance team’s upcoming performance. He looks at Zeren with large, wide eyes and a face that he apparently thinks doesn’t reveal anything that he’s thinking, but it’s no use. Chengcheng is an open book, and Zeren can tell he’s worried even before he’s even opened his mouth.

What Chengcheng says about the dance team is true, at least. They do have a performance coming up, some spring festival at his college that they’re scheduled to perform for. They perform at it every year, and Zeren never misses it.

Despite this, he can’t bring himself to go to the studio, and it’s not only because he doesn’t want to see Yanchen face to face. It’s because the dance in question was choreographed by the two of them-- Yanchen and Zeren--, and every time he dances it he thinks about Yanchen’s body and his soft smiles and his sweaty form as he tenses in concentration for a turn.

But _god_ , is it hard. Zeren _misses_ Yanchen with every fiber of his being, from the sloppy hearts on his cappuccinos, to the smell of lavender all around him, to the video games tucked away by his television. He misses the light in his eyes when they went paintballing, the softness of the cats he fed at the cafe. He misses the way his skin feels under his, the way he comes apart so acutely underneath him. 

So sometimes Zeren almost gives in. He spends evenings staring at his phone, scrolling through their text messages, stifling his urge to call him and confess everything. And sometimes, when he goes on runs, his feet stray traitorously in the direction of Yanchen’s apartment, and it’s at the corner just by his building that Zeren finally has the sense of mind to turn back.

But the school is only so big, and it was inevitable that he’d see him again.

No matter how carefully Zeren sneaks out of his classes, how invisible he can make himself from the world, it still apparently didn’t prevent him from turning the corner of the hallway, back weighed down with his laptop and books, and seeing Yanchen leaning against the wall, laughing so hard his eyes scrunch up into crescents.

He’s talking to a boy-- a very pretty one at that--, and it’s foolish of Zeren to get jealous when he never belonged to him in the first place, and in fact, he’s not jealous. Instead, it’s a wave of sadness that washes over him when he sees Yanchen smile, bright and happy as ever.

_Look how happy he is_ , his heart cries out miserably. _He’s just as happy as he was when he was with you. It’s_ you _who’s been a fool in all of this._

Yanchen looks up for a moment, and for a second, Zeren thinks he sees him. The expression slips off his face, and his mouth opens to presumably say something.

But Zeren is gone. Slipped away. Running as hard as he can to somewhere anywhere but here.

***

But Yanchen is Yanchen. And when he wants something, he persists, and he doesn’t stop until he’s done with it through and through.

Yanchen catches up with him in the library, a few weeks after Zeren cut things off, when Zeren is trying to cram as much information as he can for his exams next week.

And here’s the thing: Zeren sees him coming. He conveniently looks up to see Yanchen’s tall form dart between the bookshelves, his body wrapped in a green-grey jacket spattered with raindrops. Zeren’s heart drops, and seconds later, he has his laptop and books shoved in his backpack, and he’s walking quickly for the exit, praying that Yanchen hasn’t spotted him yet.

And just because it’s Yanchen, he did.

Zeren hears the feet pound behind him, and he grits his teeth before he begins to run, sprinting for the exit so that he won’t have to look at him in the face and break down all over again.

But just as he’s at the library door, a pair of arms clutch at his shoulders and grind him to a stop.

It’s like last time he tried running away from Yanchen; Yanchen catches him again, and Zeren can’t escape, no matter how hard he tries to run away.

Yanchen only tightens his hands on him and spins him around almost harshly. His eyes are very bright when he forces his gaze on him, flashing with anger and hurt.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Zeren speaks first, panic building up in his gut.

“Zhengting. He said that you were studying at the library when I called him. Are you going to run away again?” he says through gritted teeth.

Zeren drops his gaze and tries to step back; it’s futile. Yanchen’s hands are like an iron vice around his shoulders. “I’m not running away. I ended it weeks ago, Yanchen. You can find another hole to fuck.”

It’s harsh, and maybe Zeren deserves the pain that runs through his shoulder when Yanchen digs his fingers into his skin so hard, he knows that it’ll bruise.

“Is that what you think all of this has been about?” Yanchen all but snarls. “Or was it all you wanted, a hole to fuck?”

Zeren grits his teeth. “It was never more than that. We hooked up at a party, Yanchen. And kept doing it. There was nothing else.”

“Then why do you keep running away?” Yanchen growls. He forces Zeren’s face up, so that he meets Yanchen’s gaze, all hot and piercing and sore. “If it was _just a hookup_ , then why are you avoiding me?”

Zeren opens his mouth to retort, to push him away, _anything_ , but just as usual, Zeren is too weak for this. He deflates, all his frustration melting away, and it’s only the hurt that he’s left with, throbbing and bruising and hurting all too acutely. Yanchen presses his wounds in the way that takes him apart the most, leaving him begging and breaking apart at the seam, _love, love, and love_ the only thing he feels.

Zeren shakes his head helplessly.

Yanchen shakes him hard, his voice climbing. “Then why? Why did you run? Why are you okay with throwing away _everything_?” His arms are tight around him, smearing the water on his jacket onto Zeren’s skin. His voice cracks when he speaks again. “Why are you okay with leaving me?”

And all of a sudden, Yanchen’s face crumples on itself. He cries, his tears mixing with the raindrops already on his face, his hands shaking from where they’re clutching Zeren’s shoulders. Yanchen cries, and Zeren can’t seem to stop how his heart is pounding so hard, tremors are travelling all throughout his body.

“Zeren,” Yanchen finally says. He looks Zeren straight in the eye, his gaze shiny. “You’re in love with me, right?”

And because Zeren is weak, because he can’t hold up to the way Yanchen looks at him like he can see right through him, because he’s so fucking in love it _hurts_ , his lips tremble and part. “I am.”

It’s pathetic. Zeren is staked on the spot, pierced by Yanchen’s heavy gaze on him, and he can’t even muster up the strength to look away. It’s pathetic, because he knew that he would fall in love with him, even from that first morning tangled up in Ziyi and Xukun’s guest bed. Or maybe it was even earlier that he knew, when he was mesmerized by the way Yanchen’s body moved during dance tryouts, strong and solid and soft. It doesn’t matter. It’s pathetic anyhow that he let himself fall for him, even when there was never anything that was supposed to happen anyways.

Yanchen engulfs him, wraps his arms around him tight and pulls him into his chest. Zeren initially struggles, but he can’t help but relax in his embrace, breathing in the scent of rain and lavender and _Yanchen_ , even if he can feel his heart cracking again.

“Then why can’t you accept that I’m in love with you too?”

Zeren chokes back a sob and presses his head against Yanchen’s chest. Yanchen holds him tight, carefully, like he’s something incredibly fragile, and makes sure that he doesn’t break.

***

Zeren gasps as Yanchen presses him up against the cold, shower tiles, soaked to the bone in their clothes that they walked through the rain in.

Yanchen reaches beside him and turns the water on, dousing them both in cold, then gradually warm water. Zeren gasps again from the shock, and Yanchen takes the opportunity to press a kiss to his mouth, hot and wet and desperate.

Zeren whines, his hands tracing up under Yanchen’s jacket and across his abdomen. “Take this off.”

Yanchen chuckles into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop kissing him, even when Zeren strips them of their clothes and there’s only water and skin between them.

Yanchen presses kisses along his throat and squeezes his hip, letting Zeren wrap his arms around his neck and pull him in closer. His moans are breathless, keening when Zeren tugs on his hair, his cock hard against Zeren’s thigh.

Yanchen presses him carefully against the wall when he fucks into him, deep and slow, just the way he knows Zeren likes it. Zeren’s hands slip against the wall, his back arching from how good Yanchen feels inside him, hot and familiar and careful.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Yanchen groans as he pumps into Zeren slowly. He takes one of Zeren’s hands and presses it against the wall, leaning over him so that he can kiss along his ear. 

There’s water coming down on the both of them, and Zeren is so near the edge, his body stretched tight and delicate, and Yanchen’s voice in his ear is what tips him over.

He comes, his orgasm washing over him, a moan ripping out of his throat, and just seconds later, Yanchen follows, pulsing into him, filling him up.

“I love you too,” he gasps, almost afraid that his words are swallowed up by the water. But Yanchen turns his head anyways and kisses him so thoroughly, he doesn’t think that it really matters.

***

“Why didn’t you figure out that I have feelings for you too?” Yanchen asks, once they’re bundled up in his sweet smelling sheets and he has one arm tucked safely around Zeren, the other grazing absentmindedly along Zeren’s side.

Zeren presses a spot between his ribs. There’s a bruise there, either from paintballing or something else. Briefly, the nasty part of his brain tells him that it’s the mark from another pair of lips-- not Zeren’s-- but he pushes it away. _He loves me_. “It’s just… we were just fucking around. We never said we were dating or anything.”

Yanchen presses a kiss against his forehead. “Is that it?”

“No,” he admits. What Yanchen said that time in bed about his future comes filtering through his head again. “And that time we were talking about what we were gonna do in the future, and you said you were going to get a fresh start… you know, change some things in your life? I thought… I just thought that you meant me too, because…”

Yanchen kisses his face again, holding him close. His breath tickles his skin as he breathes into Zeren’s hair. “Why wouldn’t I want you anymore? I thought you would get that even if I needed a fresh start, I still wanted you by my side for it.”

“Well because…” Zeren swallows. “Because you’re so perfect, Yanchen. You’re nice and hot and sweet and funny and smart and you have everything together and you smell like lavender and your smile makes everyone around you happy. I’m a mess. You don’t need someone like me.”

“But I do.” Yanchen pulls back and looks at Zeren, pierces him again with his gentle gaze, churning with emotion. “I’m also cold. I don’t like revealing too much of myself, and people don’t like how rude and distant I am when I need to focus. I’m selfish and I take too long showers. I’m a workaholic and I need to learn to calm down and stop beating myself up for the small things that happen to me. And then you come in, with your blunt comments and pretty face, and I was a goner.” He brushes a hand across Zeren’s cheek. “I didn’t think much of it at first, sleeping with you, except for how good you felt and how cool you were about it afterwards. But then, when I got to know you, I got to see how funny you are, how sensitive, how selfless, how _strong_ you are. You gave up so much to be here and you’re still fighting. How could I not fall in love with you then?”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Zeren says against Yanchen’s skin. There’s the feeling to cry again, that odd, hot pressure building up behind the eyes that tremble and threaten to spill over. 

"I couldn't say anything." Yanchen tightens his arms around him until they're shaking. "I asked you to stay with me for sex, didn't I? It was stupid, I know, but I didn't think that..."

He stops and holds him close.

Zeren can feel his heart beating under his chest, warm and stable and so distinctly _Yanchen_ that his mind slips and it’s over. He’ll never love anyone else but him.

“I'm so fucking crazy for you, Ding Zeren.”

***

Yanchen laughs as he drapes himself over his shoulders. Despite Zeren’s scowls and attempts to push him off, he clings to him, hugging him from behind as Zeren compares the keychains he’s looking at an art stand.

The campus spring festival is bustling with talk and music, stands set up everywhere selling anything from origami to pottery to rice cakes. It’s evening, the sky blending from pink to purple, and the entire road is decorated with bright yellow lanterns.

Zeren can see the rest of the dance team a few stands away, arguing amongst themselves over what food to buy. There are smiles on their faces though, bright expressions as they laugh and joke about the performance they just did.

Their routine was a success in the end, Zeren knows. He’s been stopped many times already tonight by fellow students complimenting him for their performance and asking him to dance for them again sometime.

Yanchen teases him about it, whispering in his ear about how stressed he was last night, and Zeren pushes him away, though he can’t help but smile wide as well.

It was his choreography on the stage. His and Yanchen’s art. Beautiful, mesmerizing, hopeful.

“How about this one?” He holds up a keychain with a cat face stamped on it for Yanchen to inspect.

Yanchen scrunches his nose at it. “I thought you said you were a dog person.”

“So I have to abandon cats all together now, even though you’re still working at a cat cafe.” He puts the keychain down and presses his hands onto Yanchen’s arm around his chest. The air is crisp and warm, the sky bright even though it’s nighttime.

“Mmm. Maybe we can get a cat.” Yanchen nuzzles into Zeren’s hair, and Zeren almost wants to scoff. _You’re cat-like enough for us to not get another one._

Zhengting calls for them at the food stand, waving a steaming takoyaki wrapped in paper above his head, Wenjun’s arm around his shoulders. Chengcheng and Justin are already munching on theirs, Ziyi, Xukun, Yanjun, and the rest of them paying for their own. 

“Let’s go eat,” he says to Yanchen. Yanchen agrees with a kiss against his ear.

“You smell so _good_.”

They make their way slowly to the rest of the team, swaying in tune with the soft music filtering through the sweet smelling air.

***

“I love you,” Yanchen gasps as Zeren bottoms out inside of him. His arms are on Zeren’s shoulders, his lips grazing by his neck as he moans and comes apart so beautifully underneath him.

_I love you too,_ he thinks. He doesn’t say it, pleasure and warmth washing over him in a wave that reduces the little breath he still has into choked, drawn out moans, but he will later on.

He’ll tell him he loves him, and Yanchen will smile in a way that makes him feel like it’s stardust that’s making him feel so indescribably warm and safe inside. Yanchen will hold his hand tightly, his lips brushing against Zeren’s hair, until they both fall asleep in the darkness and scent of lavender all around them.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos really motivate me, so leave one if you have some time!
> 
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ramenree)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ramenreee)


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